


Birthday(s)

by MissMorwen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorwen/pseuds/MissMorwen
Summary: She traced the edge of the desk with a finger as she walked around it. “You’re too busy to celebrate your own birthday on your actual birthday?”“Tell them I’ve got plans with my best girl.” He caught Natasha’s wrist and tugged her into his lap. A smile curled the edges of his mouth. It spoke of things that were best enjoyed in a bedroom or at least behind a locked door.It was tempting, but plans had been laid and she did so love seeing him enjoy himself with the others. “Yourbest girlis going to the party so that’s fine with me.”*************In which Natasha has secrets and Bucky works hard to figure out when her damn birthday is.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 45
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

James stared at the computer screen as if it had done something to offend him. Which, granted, wasn’t out of the question considering the updates Tony had mentioned the other day. Natasha closed the door to James’ office behind her, careful not to disturb him. He would already be aware that she was there, but there was no point in pulling his attention away from whatever he was working on. Hell, he had probably been aware of her since she started walking down the corridor lined with offices. But there was aware of and then there was distracted by.

He typed something hunting-and-pecking with lightning speed, pressed send. “There.” He looked at her, the frown evaporated, and a soft smile took its place.

Natasha smiled back and said, “FYI. Everyone’s waiting for me to bring you to your surprise birthday party.”

“Really?” He didn’t sound entirely surprised which had to be considered an improvement. He’d spend the first several get-togethers with the other Avengers looking over his shoulder. Acting as if he expected someone to punish him for intruding.

“Really.”

“Nuh-uh,” said James, leaned back in the chair and pushed it back from the desk, his legs apart and arms resting on the armrests. At ease and utterly inviting. “Tell ‘em I’m busy.”

She traced the edge of the desk with a finger as she walked around it. “You’re too busy to celebrate your own birthday on your actual birthday?”

“Tell them I’ve got plans with my best girl.” He caught Natasha’s wrist and tugged her into his lap. A smile curled the edges of his mouth. It spoke of things that were best enjoyed in a bedroom or at least behind a locked door.

It was tempting, but plans had been laid and she did so love seeing him enjoy himself with the others. “Your _best girl_ is going to the party so that’s fine with me.”

His hair was a mess. It stuck out in clumps from him running his fingers through it while working on the report he’d just sent off. He’d even stuck a half-smoked cigarette behind one ear. She plucked it with two fingers and flicked it at the wastebasket.

“Making friends was a mistake,” he said, failing to pull off a grumpy glare.

“Family is family.”

James hummed in agreement, then asked, his voice dripping with mock suspicion, “That makes me wonder why you’d ruin the surprise by telling me?”

“I thought that would be obvious. I don’t want you to murder the guests,” said Natasha sweetly and separated another clump of hair.

“I resent that. At most I’d maim a few of them.”

“Uh-huh.

He stroked her thigh, then paused halfway and plucked at the fabric of her dress. The one she hadn’t been wearing earlier that day when they rode his bike to the Avengers HQ. The one she’d gotten especially for today because she knew how much he loved seeing her in blue. He pulled away and narrowed his eyes at her. “How long have you known about this surprise party?”

“Not that long. A few days. A month or two tops.” Perfectly innocent.

“Just so you know, I’m gonna pay you back. For your next birthday, I’m gonna—” He stopped mid-sentence. “Hey, when _is_ your birthday?”

Well, it would have to come out at some point. She was lucky to have gone this long without him making a fuss about it. Natasha shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve never been one for birthdays.”

“It matters to me. When is it?”

She wiggled in his lap, hoping to distract him. Today was his day and she wasn’t about to let him ruin that. “It’s rude to ask a woman her age, James.”

“No, I’m—”

Her phone rang and she stood to answer it, swatting away his attempt to keep her seated.

Clint’s whisper was so low she could barely make out, “ETA?”

“Leaving in a second.” She turned around to look at James and his attempt to look put upon. “I’ll get the birthday boy to his favorite restaurant for a quiet meal before heading home,” she said with exaggerated care.

James folded his arms over his chest.

After she had ended the call, he said, “So, it’s at the lounge?” His relief was obvious despite the folded arms.

The Avengers Lounge was a floor away from the offices, relatively private all things considered. More importantly, it was miles away from his and Natasha’s apartment. She loved their friends, but having everyone over? Not a chance. Besides, James needed to be able to escape somewhere if it got to be too much for him later.

“Are you coming?” She reached out a hand to him. “We can’t keep the guests waiting.”

“Yeah,” he said and stood, taking her offered hand. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way and I’ll try ‘n act surprised.”

She brushed an invisible speck of dust off his chest and stretched to kiss him. “That’s the spirit, Sergeant.”

***

As it turned out, the surprise party wasn’t all that bad. Being the center of attention was something he’d never feel completely comfortable with, but the party was nice all the same. Plus, someone had had the clever idea of putting ninety-nine candles on the cake and it had made Bucky laugh so hard that he’d failed to blow out more than a handful on his first try.

The Parker kid had shown him a picture he’d taken of it and the cake had looked like a bonfire or a gateway into hell. That had made Bucky laugh even harder.

He might get the picture printed and framed if he could figure out how.

An hour into the party, he managed to get Steve alone intending to ask him about Natalia’s birthday. Trouble was that he was stumped on _how_ to ask someone how old his own damn girlfriend was. Even if that someone was his oldest friend. He and Natalia had lived together for over a year, and they’d been together even longer. He was supposed to know things like that.

He knew that she preferred tea over coffee but would drink either if offered. He knew when they’d moved in together, her only worry had been whether their cats would accept each other. Not that she’d admit it. He knew that she had a handful of books she would never get tired of rereading and she would replace her worn copies with new ones whenever they became too ratty to be carried with her. But he didn’t know her damn birthday. What kind of sad excuse of a boyfriend was he?

Steve cleared his throat. “Is there… Is there something bothering you, Buck?”

Staring hard at the beer bottle he’d been fidgeting with, he said, “Do you know when Nat’s birthday is?”

He’d expected Steve to rib him, maybe even laugh. He hadn’t expected blank silence.

“Huh,” Steve said.

Bucky risked a glance up at him. There wasn’t a trace of amusement on his face, only faint confusion.

“You know, she told me it was April first, but Sam said something about November and she always looks so amused when I wish her happy birthday.”

“Oh God,” said Bucky.

“Is this some joke I’m not getting?”

He dragged a hand over his face. This whole thing was ridiculous. “I don’t fucking know. Ask Natasha. She’s the one who wouldn’t tell me her birthday.”

“What.” And there it was, the smirk that launched a thousand punches.

Physically, Erskine had transformed runty Steve into a beef mountain. But the serum hadn’t just changed his appearance. Everything good about Steve had been multiplied, his kindness, his ability to inspire others to follow him, his suicidal urge to fight for everything good and true in the world. It hadn’t done a lot of good to his judginess.

“If you tease me about this,” Bucky said cheerfully. “I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

“That’s right, resort to violence.” He crossed his arms over his chest but failed to summon the sanctimonious mug he usually used to get the other Avengers to do as he said and not as he did.

“Fuck off.”

“That’s some boyfriend you’ve turned out to be,” said the living personification of Bucky’s guilt.

“Ugh,” said Bucky.

Silent seconds ticked past, then Steve said, “Have you tried looking her up in the SHIELD files she leaked?”

“I have. It said January first, but it also said 1984 which…” He waved his half-empty beer bottle at the impossibility of having met and trained Natalia several decades before she was born.

“Yeah.” Another pause. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. She refused to give me a straight answer.”

“Hmm,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky.

“Do you want help with this?”

He did, but he had to be careful about it. Steve was without a doubt the best strategist he’d ever known, but he wasn’t always the one with the lightest touch. This would need a light touch. Natalia had dodged two direct questions. If he went probing into her past without telling her about it, she wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Could you ask Sam about the November date?”

Clint would know her birthdate, but he’d also tell Natalia about it the second Bucky turned his back to him, so asking him was out of the question for the time being. Wanda was a safer bet with Natalia mentoring her. Sharon or Hill might know too, but there was no way he’d get anything out of either of them. The odds of Stark having ever asked about her birthday _and_ still remembered were next to nothing, but Pepper was the organized type that would have put it in a calendar if either knew it.

He’d figure it out. Eventually, he’d figure it out.

***

“You know what I like about coming home?” James said and removed his arm from around her shoulders to dig out his keys.

The sudden lack of warmth made Natasha shiver. “No people?” Despite her boots and coat, the blue dress did little to keep her warm in the middle of March. James’ arm had been a helpful addition.

“No. Well, yeah, but no.” He dodged her attempt to unlock the front door to their building, unlocked it himself, and held it open for her. “The Tower’s great an’ all. Secure as hell, all the fancy whatchamacallits a mad scientist could wish for but at the end of the day?” He pressed the elevator button and it dinged, the door opening. “No damn privacy.” He looped his arm over her shoulder again. Even through her coat, she could feel the heat from his hand as it drew little circles on her bicep.

The elevator door closed behind them with a woosh and she looked up at him with a grin, not bothering to inform him about what he already knew. Natasha had been rather explicit in her wish for privacy when she was at the Tower and when James had joined their little team, she had made sure that privacy included him. “Yeah?”

He rounded on her, all fluid motions and wolfish grin, tilting her head up with a finger under her chin. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer not being watched when I’m banging my girlfriend.”

She slid her hands up his chest, the well-worn leather was soft to the touch and his body firm underneath it. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that hours ago, we could have left the surprise party early.”

“You stuffed your panties into my pocket four goddamn hours ago.” He took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back or risk losing her balance. “Yet you insisted it was rude to leave early.”

“No pockets in this dress, I didn’t have anywhere else to put them.” She widened her eyes, blinked a few times. Innocence 101 for bad actors and actresses.

“That’s the story you’re sticking with?” He took another step forward, trapping her between the cool elevator door and the heat from his body.

She bit her bottom lip, dragged her teeth over it the way he so often did during their, ah, more intimate moments, watching as his eyes dipped down and got stuck there. The elevator dinged as the door opened behind her. Neither paid it any attention. Tilting her head, so they could kiss without their noses bumping, Natasha said, “You bet it is.”

The way he looked at her with bottomless hunger always made her a little dizzy. The honesty of it. The rawness. His nose brushed her, then a whisper of warmth as his lips grazed hers. He straightened. “Alright, if that’s the way you feel—” his hand shot out to stop the door from closing and gestured for her to exit the elevator.

She tried not to snicker. “Cruel and unusual punishment, James.”

“Do I need to remind you of the underwear burning a hole in my pocket? Or _Munich_?”

“Oh, come on. You loved every second of Munich once we got to the hotel.”

“Cruel and unusual. I’ll show you cruel and unusual,” he mumbled and unlocked the door to their apartment.

Once inside, she shrugged out of her coat and looked at him over her shoulder. “You promise?”

The wolfish grin returned. “C’mere.”

How could she refuse? The hem of her dress brushed against her legs as Natasha slinked over to him, but he couldn’t be distracted, his eyes fixed on hers as he reached out and cupped her jaw. His calloused thumb scratched a little when he stroked it over her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. Anticipation curled in her stomach. James’ pupils were dilated, eyes dark, eating her up. She parted her lips when he rubbed his thumb over them, licked at it, grinned.

“Did you have a good birthday, old man?”

He nodded and grinned back. “The best.”

She found his jacket’s zipper-pull blind, pulled until she could slip her arms under his jacket, partly for the warmth but mostly to leave fewer layers of clothing between them. As always, James was quick on the uptake, his hands found her hips and he tilted his head, brushing his nose against hers.

Natasha stretched to kiss the ridiculous dip in his chin. “I’m glad.” His stubble scratched her as she kissed along the line of his jaw.

“I can tell.” The words were barely more than a rumble in his chest. His fingers flexed on her hips as she reached the ticklish spot under his ear.

She could smell the aftershave she’d gotten him, mixed with smoke and the smell of skin. The skin was soft where it wasn’t covered with stubble and she sucked bruises into it just to feel him jerk against her.

Strong fingers curled around the base of her skull and guided her head back up to his. His breath washed over her before he bent his head, then his lips met hers and they kissed. Softly and utterly delicious. He was so warm and she pushed up against him to soak up every bit of it, tightening her hands into fists to grip the sides of his shirt when he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and dragged her teeth over it. Lazy kisses slowly turning into hungry ones.

She was out of breath when James pulled back and said with a wicked grin, “And it’s about to get even better.” He bent to scoop her up easy as anything and nearly tripped over something that mewed indignantly at him. A faint bump came from the bedroom, then Liho’s frail and kitten-like mew joined in with Alpine’s plaintive meow.

Natasha snickered.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers, then set her down with a, “Hold that thought.”

“Believe me, I will.” She kicked off her boots before she followed him down the hallway, past the kitchen where he was getting ready to feed the ravenous monsters and into the living room where she dropped her bag in an armchair.

When she turned back to watch him, he had already emptied out and rinsed the old bowls and was filling clean ones with fresh wet food while Liho and Alpine weaved in and out between his legs. Was it weird to enjoy watching him care for the cats? Maybe, but that didn’t stop her. Gripping the edge of the dinner table, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of it, smiling when the cats’ dance became desperate. Finally done, he left them to their feeding frenzy and crossed the space to her in a few long-legged strides.

James’ hands were on her the second he reached her. Hunger evident in his movements. Fingers ghosting over her face, her neck, her shoulders, and arms. Welcoming him, she wrapped her legs around his slim hips and pulled him closer. He was still wearing his jacket and she pulled at the collar until he obliged her, shucked the jacket off, and threw it over a chair. His tee had been rucked up when he discarded the jacket, too tight across his chest, tighter still across his wide shoulders. Muscles rippled when he pulled it off and tossed it in the general vicinity of the jacket. Natasha trailed her fingers up his stomach and chest, dipping into groves and up over heavy muscles, detouring to trace the sensitive seam between flesh and metal, grinning when it made him shiver.

“Now,” said Natasha, “where were we?”

“I was about to unwrap my birthday present.” His voice had gone deep and husky, promises of things to come laced his words. He followed up on those promises a second later, unzipping her dress and pushing it down to her waist, leaving it to her to free her arms from the sleeves.

“By all means, be my guest.” Her own voice hadn’t fared much better.

He chuckled and put a hand flat on her chest and pushed till she was laid out before him. The table was cool against her back, but James was warm, and he leaned over her, covering her, keeping her there. His lips found her collarbone, then so did his teeth. She nearly arched off the table, but he wrapped his hands around her waist to keep in place – one scorching hot, one barely above room temperature. Kissing a trail down her chest, he reached her bra that apparently wasn’t all that important because he latched onto her nipple as if the fabric wasn’t there.

This time he couldn’t keep her from arching off the table.

In retaliation, Natasha locked her ankles behind him and ground against him, feeling the outline of his cock through his jeans. He groaned but didn’t let up until she was gasping for air, aching for something more than lips felt only through the fabric.

He had a smug smile when she opened her eyes again and she sat up to kiss it off him, hooking her finger around his hips, running her thumbs up and down the twin grooves of his Adonis’s belt. His stubble rubbed her raw, but his mouth was as open and hungry as hers. If she angled her hips like so, she could fit him in closer between her legs and feel the entire length of his deliciously hard cock against her. There. She gasped and grinned when he echoed her gasp. The need to have him inside her was nearly unbearable.

Enough teasing foreplay.

She abandoned his hips to work open his belt, but before she could attack the buttons on his jeans, James slipped a hand under the skirt of her dress and between her legs. She was slick and aching already and he barely wasted any time rubbing his fingers against her before he plunged first one finger then a second into her.

She moaned from the sudden contact, then shivered when he mumbled, “Oh God, Natalia,” into her ear.

An arm slung over his shoulders gave her leverage enough to roll her hips to meet his hand and left her other hand free to find the buttons on his jeans again. One button was undone, then a second and a third. By the fourth, Natasha slipped her hand into his jeans and palm the entire length of him through his boxer-briefs. He bit her lip hard enough to hurt and she smiled against his mouth. It was only fair that she got to torment him as much as he did her. There wasn’t much room, but it was enough for her to run her nails lightly over the fabric straining to contain his cock, keeping the same pace as him, delighting in how he twitched against her.

Aching didn’t begin to cover it.

His boxer-briefs were sticky with pre-come near the top and the two fingers inside her were lovely but not enough. Hooking her index and middle fingers into the elastic she pulled, but James stopped her with his free hand.

“Nuh-uh.” He leaned back far enough for her to see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Why do you get to have all the fun?” said Natasha breathlessly.

“My birthday, my rules.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and did her best not to squirm when he curled his fingers inside her. Incorrigible man.

“You could just tell me when your birthday is, then I’ll let you call the shots.” He said it lightly but kept her hand from reaching for his cock again.

“October the thirty-first,” said Natasha and knew it was a mistake the second the words left her mouth.

“Halloween. Your birthday is on Halloween.” James didn’t phrase it as a question. He also stopped moving his other hand. Cruel and unusual, indeed.

“Could you stop worrying about my birthday and start fucking me? Pretty please?”

He stared at her for a fraction of a second too long and she knew he wasn’t going to let it go and it was her own damn fault. Then he smiled, wide and vicious. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He didn’t even bother with removing his jeans and underwear, just shoved them down far enough to be out of the way. There was no way she was going to jump off the table to remove the dress, so instead, she rucked the skirt of it up while he positioned himself. He caught her eyes before finally, he plunged into her, filling her to the brim.

Goosebumps rolled in a wave over her from the bottom of her spine to the top of her head.

When she remembered that breathing was an option and maybe not one to forget about for too long at a time, she let out a shaky breath and caressed the side of his face. He was still watching her, his lovely mouth hanging slightly open. The new haircut left his hair too short for her to pull on it and Natasha grasped the back of his head with shaking fingers to guide him into a kiss while her body adjusted to him. Who needed birthdays when she could have him and his lovely cock, hot and heavy, inside her?

James shifted and she choked down a gasp. Maybe more foreplay would have been in order, but the delicious burn more than made up for it. He clutched her hips and began to move, slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanna see you come.”

A bottomless pit opened in her stomach. She let him push her back onto the table, let him loom over her, supporting his weight with one hand at her side while the other caressed her face.

“I love you.” She was breathless with wonder.

“I love you, darlin’.” Ragged and loving and drunk with lust. “My Natalia.”

She clutched at his shoulder and she knew from the slick that she’d drawn blood, but he didn’t even flinch. Eyes heavily lidded, watching her like a starving man watching a gourmet meal.

She was so strung up from the teasing, from the slow drag and delicious push inside her. Every thrust drove the breath from her. He slid his hand down her neck, over her chest to her breast, thumbing the nipple as he went. Her skin prickled along the trail. It was all she could do not to moan with every breath. He was too far away, dammit. He should be kissing her, not—His hand slid between her legs, thumb brushing over her clit and that was all it took. She came hard and dizzyingly, shaking with it, his name falling from her lips.

The world returned by increments and Natasha rolled her hips to meet him the next time he pushed into her, sighing delightedly. “Oh fuck, James.”

He grinned and dipped down to kiss her, wet and messy.

She followed him up when he straightened, shivering when her overly sensitive clit rubbed against him, frissons of pleasure running along her nerves. Electricity. To repeat the success, all she had to do was to tighten her legs around him and—He lifted her off the table one-handed and took a few unsteady steps towards the couch. The fluid grace was gone, but the determination remained strong as ever. He sat down, held her securely in his lap, unwilling to let go for even a second. She bracketed his legs with hers and lifted partly off him to the sound of his ragged breath.

His thighs trembled under her, his lips red and plump from kissing.

Maybe he had been teased enough. For now, at least.

Natasha’s hands found his shoulders almost on their own, grabbed onto them to steady herself as she rocked her hips against him. Pleasure was building again in the pit of her stomach.

His fingers dug into her hips, bruising tight, but he didn’t try to control her movement. “God. You feel—” A groan escaped him, and James tipped his head back against the couch. His hips rolled to meet her.

It wasn’t like a dance; it wasn’t like the instinctual way they could read each other’s movements when sparring. It was longing. It was intoxicating. It was love so strong it had scared her at first. She needed him and he needed her. Body and soul. Now and forever.

“Here. I’ll…” His right hand left her hip to slide between them and between her slick folds, fingers splayed on her stomach.

“James.” It felt like a plea. A prayer if she’d been the religious type. Sounded like it, too.

“Here. Always here.”

Each roll of her hips brought delicious friction inside and rolling pressure from his thumb on her clit. On and on till Natasha didn’t think she could take any more of it.

His hips arched up into her as he came, his mouth open and his eyes closing. She captured his mouth and then she was over the edge, too. Her nerves on fire, her body shaking. They shook together, his tremors enhancing and echoing hers. Overwhelming and completely, utterly perfect.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, body buzzing and heavy and blissed out. “Oh fuck,” she murmured into his skin.

He let out a thoroughly satisfied sound. “I need more birthdays.”

She snickered. “I think we’ve proven enough times that we don’t need birthdays to screw each other’s brains out. _And_ we have no plans for tomorrow.”

He tilted his head, let out a thoughtful, “Hmm.”

She pulled back and did her best to glare at him with his cock still inside her. “Are you serious? Are you turning me down?”

“Oh no, not at all. I’m just wondering why we have to wait for tomorrow,” he assured her, brushing damp hair away from her face.

“Well,” Natasha said, rolling her hips and then had to bite down a gasp that overstimulated nerve endings tore from her.

James smiled, licked his lips, and said, “Precisely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this started as a idea for a cute one-shot where Nat warns Bucky about a surprise party (that she herself has had a hand in) and he realizes he doesn't know when her birthday is. I didn't intent for it to grow like this, and I _really_ didn't intent for it to be this smutty. But I don't control the flow of worls, I just type them out.
> 
> And Natasha's dress totally has pockets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky's investigation reveals more birthdays than he had expected and Natasha is both amused by and annoyed with her idiot boyfriend.

The day after Bucky’s birthday, Steve reported back that Sam thought Natalia’s birthday was November 22. It seemed like a reasonable enough date, except that Wanda had told Bucky that Natalia’s birthday was on August 13. That was four birthdays and he had barely started digging. He was going to have to make a list at some point. Maybe another list to keep track of who he’d asked.

He kept returning to the idea of asking Clint. If anyone knew the actual date it would be him, Clint and Natalia had been friends for far too long for it not to have come up. The problem was that Clint would tell Natalia about it the second Bucky turned his back to him. He might work around it by pretending to be planning a surprise birthday party for her, but the keyword here was might. If Natalia’s birthday was too far in the future that plan would fail. And it might even fail regardless, depending on how Clint took the questioning.

So, Bucky didn’t ask, and the days ticked by.

Bucky was packing up at the shooting range in the sub-basement at the Tower when Clint walked in. It was as good an opportunity as he was ever gonna get. Nodding in greeting, he finished up and walked over to where Clint was setting up with his bow and arrows. Had this been a conversation with a mark, he would have started out with some small talk to soften him up. But Clint’s tolerance of small talk seemed to be close to Bucky’s, which was to say nonexistent.

Skipping past all the niceties, Bucky said, “I’m thinking about throwing Natasha a surprise birthday party.”

“Yeah?” Clint said, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

“I was wondering if you wanted to help with the planning?”

“Sure. Which date are you going with?”

Bucky didn’t fidget, didn’t sigh despite wanting to. “Her birthday,” he said with a chuckle as if that would be obvious.

“Yeah? Which one?” Clint turned his head and looked directly at him for the first time.

Right. Okay. Maybe the four birthdays were a pattern after all. Fuck it. “Look, when you tell Natasha about this, you can tell her I already tried asking her."

The smirk spoke volumes. It didn’t have time to fade before Clint turned his attention back to the target practice. Long seconds passed as he shot arrow after arrow with deadly precision. When he finally paused, he shot Bucky a sidelong glance. “You knew what you signed up for when you started dating someone who calls herself the Black Widow.”

“Why do you think I’m asking you?” This time he did sigh. “She told me October thirty-first and that was a lie if ever I heard one.”

He snorted. “At least she’s sticking to a theme.” He paused, then said, “Okay. She’s never told me anything, but I know she put January first as a joke when she joined SHIELD and she told Lila it was on February twenty-ninth when she asked her. And I’m ninety percent sure she told Banner Christmas Day. Flowers seem more like a birthday gift than a Christmas gift.”

Relieved that it hadn’t been for nothing, he said, “Great. Thank you.”

Clint hefted the bow again and turned away. “Have fun coming up with an explanation for Natasha.”

“Thanks! I will,” Bucky shot back.

He had a few hours to kill before Natalia would track him down and make him pay for the heinous infraction, he might as well use them. He’d seen Darcy in the lounge and she always seemed to know more than she should, he could ask her on the off chance she knew something. Might be worth it, too.

“Clint says hi.” Natalia’s tone was light and airy and sounded exactly like when she had a mark by the balls and was just waiting to go for the kill.

Bucky glanced up from the book he had been reading, doing his very best not to smirk. Two hours. That had to be some kind of record. Had Clint told on him and his not-so-subtle espionage right away or had the meeting with Stark been so boring she’d decided to come home early? “Yeah? Tell him I said hi back when you see him again.”

“Don’t play coy with me. I know what you’re up to.” She dropped onto the couch next to him and tucked her feet between the cushion and his thigh.

Living with a super-spy came with benefits. One of them was that it kept his own skills finely honed. If he showed a flicker of emotion or made the rookie mistake of blanking his face, Natalia would know he was up to something and wouldn’t let it go until she found out what his plans were. But really, the best way of hiding secret plans from a super-spy was by not having any. He had no fucking clue what he was gonna do with the ever-growing list of birthdays. Looking at her with an open and earnest expression, Bucky said, “Do you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

He marked his place in the book, put it down on the table with deliberate care, and slung his arm over the back of the couch to face her. “Have I told you that you look smoking hot when you’re pissed?”

Natalia’s narrowed eyes didn’t flicker, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “You have. Several times.”

“Mm, good,” he hummed and turned on the couch, careful not to squash her feet.

“You’re impossible, do you know that?” The half-smile bloomed into a full smile, soft and adorable.

Since her feet were already touching him, Bucky took one of them and rubbed his thumb along the top of it in long sweeping strokes. “You could just tell me when your birthday is.”

“And miss out on all the hilariously bad excuses you use to ask people about my birthday? Never.”

“Great.” Digging his thumbs into the arch of her foot, he rubbed in circles, keeping his eyes on her as her head dropped back and her lips parted in a soundless sigh. “I like the one you told Darcy. Was it because of the equinox or the song?”

“Remind me, which song do you mean?”

“Earth, Wind, and Fire,” he said. “September.”

“Ah,” said Natalia smugly. “That was a clever one.”

“Not when you forget it.”

“Details.” She slid all the way down on the couch, resting her head on the armrest, red hair spilling over it.

“Right,” said Bucky and cupped her heel while pressing down on the top of her foot, stretching it in an arch that would be impossible for anyone who hadn’t spent an unreasonable number of years dancing ballet.

Her low moan in response made him care a lot less about detail in particular and birthdays in general. At least for the time being.

***

To say that the mission had been a drag would be the understatement of the year. A three-day job had turned into two full weeks, yet Natasha had little to show for it. She’d gotten more leads than actual intel, checking up on them was going to take another a week or two. Thankfully, Steve had managed to redirect a quinjet so it could pick her up on its way back to the States. Not only had it cut the expected travel time by several hours, but it had her back home a day early. Home, sweet home. She wanted to shower for a week and then maybe get something to eat before she showed James how much she’d missed him. On second thought, a shower, a snack, then screwing James’ brains out, and then sleeping for a week.

Sound plan.

Not even the trip home from HQ during rush hour could sour her mood. The building was a beacon of peace, the elevator ride was an opportunity to stretch weary muscles, and then finally she could close the door behind her. Home at last. She shrugged out of her jacket and toed off her sneakers before walking towards the living room and the sounds of something jazzy playing there. “Honey, I’m home,” she called.

James met her halfway and oh, was he a sight for sore eyes. The blue sweater she’d bought him for his birthday fitted him perfectly, wide enough to accommodate his shoulders yet fitted at the waist. He was freshly showered, too, judging from the shine to his hair. He hadn’t shaved, though. A dusting of stubble covered his jaw and ridiculous chin, making his mouth even more kissable.

Stepping closer, Natasha rested her hand on his chest and stretched a little to follow up on that irresistible urge. Light and sweet, feeling the curve of his smile against her lips.

“Hi,” he said when she pulled back.

“Hi.”

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” His hand brushed her face, then he caught a lock of hair that had escaped her braid and tucked it behind her ear.

“It’s good to be home.” Stupid and inane and one hundred percent true.

“Took you long enough.” There was a glimmer in his eyes that matched his smile.

“Ugh, you don’t know half of it.”

She could gladly stand here all day, looking up into his eyes. They seemed bluer than usual. Maybe because of the sweater? He smelled of her shampoo (the thief) and toothpaste and, wait, was that something floral?

As if reading the question on her face, James rubbed his chin with a guilty look on his face. Something rustled behind his back, then he pulled out a bouquet wrapped in colorful paper and cellophane. It looked expensive and way more elaborate than the roses he would sometimes bring her. “Happy birthday, Natalia,” he said solemnly.

“What,” Natasha said.

He blinked and the smile returned. “A little bird told me that your birthday was on April first and since I couldn’t get you to confirm it…” He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

The nerve of that man.

Had she told someone in the Barton family that date? Or was he talking about Sam? Too many bird-related call names in their group for her to tell. She was pretty sure Clint had never asked her about her birthday, but she might have brushed his kids off if they had asked. “Did they now.” Then she remembered. Steve always wished her happy birthday on April 1 and maybe she had told that back when they were coworkers rather than friends. Steve, who had gotten her a flight home to ensure she got home on the April 1 instead of April 2. She narrowed her eyes at James. “If people are waiting to jump out and yell surprise, you and I are going to have words.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Wide-eyed sincerity. Or at least the best imitation of it she’d seen outside the Red Room. “Was it wrong? Darlin’, you must tell me if I got it wrong. I wouldn’t want to get something as important as your birthday wrong.”

(Sometimes she forgot that she wasn’t the only one with the spy training. That when he wanted to, he could lie as well as she could.) The absolute nerve of that man.

Folding her arms across her chest, Natasha said dry as dust, “Then what are your plans for today, loverboy?”

“I was thinking, we’d start the celebration with having you sit on my face and take it from there.” Earnest and seemingly open as a book.

Faced with such blatant insolence there was nothing Natasha could do but laugh. Well, laugh and drag James’ head down to kiss the insolent smile off his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha finally spills the beans on the many birthdays and they celebrate her second birthday of the year. ~~In other words: fluff followed by graphic and shameless smut.~~

Bucky had a list of birthdays. He hadn’t written it down; he wasn’t that stupid. Actual physical (or digital, for that matter) lists might be found by people who couldn’t keep track of their own blatant lies. No, the list he had was in his head and the next date on it was coming in just over a week. He’d even gotten Sam to delay a brunch get-together to ensure that he and Natalia would have a long and lazy morning. Nothing would be left to chance. Unless Hydra attempted to take over the world yet again, he was gonna celebrate Natalia’s second birthday that year in 8 days.

And because the paranoia of a super-spy could never be underestimated, he’d spread out his shopping over a few weeks. Today he was bringing home walnuts and maple syrup, intending to of using some of it for a dessert. Bucky had a plan, and he was gonna go through with it no matter what.

Said plans almost got put on hold when he got home and was met with clanking noises.

He made his way to the kitchen and found it looking like a hurricane had gone through it. All the cabinet doors were open, and some had been emptied out onto the counter. Natalia crouched by a cabinet, emptying it of pots and pans.

When she didn’t turn around, Bucky said, “Whatcha doin’?”

She didn’t quite startle. Her hand tightened around the pan she was holding, and her body tensed, but then she relaxed and looked at him over her shoulder. “Cleaning. This place is filthy.”

It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Okay,” he said and set to packing away the groceries. When he was done, he walked over to the sink where a glass oven dish was soaking.

“You don’t have to help.”

“I know.” He took the scouring pad she had laid out and started scrubbing the dish.

“James…”

“You could just tell me what’s bugging you. Maybe I could help.” For someone who went out of her way to help other people expecting nothing in return, Natalia was stubbornly, infuriatingly bad at accepting help. But that didn’t mean Bucky would ever stop trying.

She sighed in reply and he had almost given up on getting an answer when she said, “Wanda seems to think that my birthday is coming up and that you might be planning something for it.”

Suddenly he was glad he had his back to her. Having her see the grin that flashed over his face would not have improved her mood. “Oh,” he said, then added, “Spoilsport.”

“I thought you were done with that birthday nonsense.”

He kind of was. He hadn’t asked anyone since Darcy. Or rather, not since Natalia had confronted him about asking Clint. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what to do about the birthdays he’d found, though. He shrugged.

They worked in silence. Him washing everything set out on the counter; her drying it all off and putting it away. When the podcast she’d been listening to ended and she didn’t put another one on, Bucky found the playlist Sam had insisted he listened to and put it on instead. About four songs into the playlist, he figured out why Sam had been so insistent. 

“When a man's an empty kettle he should be on his mettle,” sang the actor who had played the Tin Man in Wizard of Oz.

Bucky sighed. This was revenge for the feathers he’d stuffed Sam’s jacket with the last time they’d visited.

“Sam?” Natalia asked, and he could hear the smile in her tone before he glanced over at her.

He nodded, more glumly than he felt.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

“He started it,” he said with zero conviction because he’d honestly lost track at this point.

She put the dishtowel on the countertop and brushed her hands over her thighs. “Okay, there’s the thing. You can ask as many people as you like about my birthday, you won’t get the answer you want. The truth is that I don’t know when it is.” She sounded like she was admitting something shameful. A fatal flaw.

“I don’t care,” said Bucky, picking up the dishtowel to dry his hands. “So what if you’ve lied to everyone about your birthday? I get to celebrate you eight times a year and that’s all that matters.”

“Eight?” She sounded incredulous, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Eight,” he confirmed. “You’ve got a whole stretch between April and August with no birthdays, so if you wanna add some...”

“You know how stupid it is, right?” There was no attempt at hiding her amusement now.

Bucky reached for her hands and cradled them in his, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. "The trouble is, darlin’, that you couldn’t even stick to one fake birthday and now I get to celebrate you eight times every year. I bet I could find more if I asked around—”

“Don’t you dare.” Laughter spilled over Natalia’s words.

“Truce?”

“I don’t know what you think truce is in this case, мили мой, but if it stops you from making more people painfully aware of how many lies I’ve told them…”

“I haven’t asked anyone since you told me not to in not so many words.”

She studied his face, her green eyes mapping out his features. It used to make Bucky uncomfortable back when she’d first subjected him to it in the Red Room. The way she seemed to see everything. Made him feel exposed. But even before she admitted to him that she only saw enough to let her pretend to know everything, he started to like it. The way she could see him for what he was and not flinch away.

Reaching out, Natalia slipped her arms around his neck, pressing close to him. “Thank you,” she said, making it sound like a declaration of love.

“Anything for you, baby doll.” He didn’t manage the droll tone he’d been aiming for, but it didn’t matter, it still made her smile.

***

The morning was bright and sunny. The sun was still low on the horizon, but the myriad of pinprick holes littering the blackout curtain let enough of it in to turn the curtain into a starry sky. Liho and Alpine hadn’t taken kindly to it and the rude obstruction of their view when it was installed, but it seemed like they’d reached a ceasefire. Natasha stretched under the warm duvet, rolling onto her side to snuggle up to—The other side of the bed was empty. An inquisitive hand under James’ pillow found that the sheet under it was as cool as the rest. No warmth left from when he’d slept there. It must have been a while since he got up. Had he had a nightmare? Must have been a bad one if it had made him get up without waking her.

She glanced at her phone. No point in trying to fall back asleep at this hour. With James already up, she might as well get up, too. She didn’t bother getting dressed, James’ tee from yesterday would do fine. Besides, they had the day off, no need to get showered before breakfast. She stretched again and made her way to the closed bedroom door. On the other side of it, a cat mewed. Alpine judging from the high-pitched, desperate edge of it. It was always all or nothing with him. He wasn’t hungry; he was dying of starvation. He didn’t want to go somewhere; he had to be let in or the world would end.

Natasha grinned and nearly missed James’ hushed voice, shushing the furry dictator.

She had only opened the door an inch before Alpine tried to press his head through the crack. Liho followed at a more sedated pace once the door was open and greeted Natasha with a chirp as she rubbed against her bare legs.

“Now, I told you,” James said from the kitchen and turned. “You’re up.” Something that wasn’t quite disappointment flashed over his face, then he frowned. “Go back to bed. I have plans.” It sounded like capital P plans. Those were usually entertaining, but so was pretending to ruin said plans.

“Did you now.” The smell of something sweet reached her and pulled her toward the kitchen. Was he making pancakes? There was a bowl of chopped up fruit on the kitchen counter next to two cups, and best of all— “You’re making waffles?”

He put the stovetop waffle iron to the side and stepped between her and the mountain of delicious-smelling waffles. “Oh no, you don’t.” Wide as a goddamn door when he broadened his stance like that. Impossible to get past. Unfair.

His sweatpants hung low on his hips and Natasha traced the sliver of skin between them and his tee, stepping closer, nuzzling the side of his neck. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s August thirteenth,” James said as if that was supposed to mean something to her.

“And?” She dusted the soft skin at the crook of his neck with kisses, pressing up against him to soak up his warmth.

“It’s your birthday.”

She dropped her head against his chest and snickered. “I should have seen that one coming from miles away.”

His mouth had curled into an impish smile when she looked up, laugh lines surrounded his eyes. “Yes, you should have.” He nodded for emphasis.

“Okay, I’m going back to bed, but first— ”She stretched to kiss him, then whipped her arm from his waist to the stack of waffles. His hand closed around her wrist as her fingers closed around the top waffle.

“Nope.” Iron grip, almost literally. Metal grip, anyway.

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Bed. Now.”

Sighing, Natasha let go of the waffle. “Fine,” she said and turned back toward the bedroom. “I suppose that means I don’t need your shirt if we’re having breakfast in bed.” She pulled the shirt off and flung it at the back of the couch.

She could almost feel the weight of James’ gaze on her naked back. She could definitely hear him swallow from across the room.

“Plans,” he said with an exaggerated whimper that made her laugh.

“Don’t take too long, Mr. Barnes.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

Maybe having eight birthdays each year wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Instead of getting into bed to wait for him, Natasha went hunting for the silk nightie she had bought in Paris last year. It was useless for sleeping in since the thin straps slipped off her shoulders at the slightest movement. In fact, the only thing it was good for was for looking sexy while lounging. Which was also why she’d bought it in the first place.

She barely had time to put it on, fluff the duvet, and get back under it before James came into the bedroom. The tray he carried was laden with a ridiculous amount of waffles, bite-sized pieces of fruit, croissants, and tea. He sidestepped the cats’ enthusiastic attempts to trip him up and got into the bed, holding the tray level as he settled.

“We won’t be able to move if we eat all of this,” she said as she surveyed the tray.

He shrugged. “I’ve fed the cats. We could stay in bed all day if we wanted to.”

“Plans?” she said.

“Plans.” His gaze flicked over to her, looking at her like a kid eyeing a mountain of gifts under the Christmas tree. Wonderment, pure and simple. (It never failed to take her breath away.)

Natasha reached out and caught the collar of his tee with a crooked index finger, tugging at it. The mattress dipped under his hand as he leaned over and kissed her. He must have been drinking coffee while he prepared breakfast. She could taste it on his tongue, the bitterness of it in contrast with his kiss–soft, indulgent, and lazy. She curled her hand around the base of his skull and kissed him until his breathing grew heavy. There. Now they were more even.

“So, will you be sharing those plans with me?” she said after she broke the kiss.

Red lips curled in a smile that was entirely too self-satisfied. “Not a chance,” said James, divvying up the waffles and pouring an obscene amount of maple syrup over them. Walnut chunks from the other day dotting the golden liquid.

Well, if the plans continued the established theme, Natasha might learn to live with that.

They ate slowly, it tasted too good not to, and talked between mouthfuls. Neither had anywhere else they had to be. Barring emergencies, they had the day to themselves to do as much or as little as they wanted to. She had her suspicions about how much of it would be spent in the bed, though. If her last birthday was any indication, James wouldn’t relent until she was thoroughly satisfied and on the right side of exhausted. Not that Natasha minded that. She always repaid him in kind. It was a luxury they never got to enjoy their first time around, and they made a point out of doing it as often as possible these days.

When she was done eating, she shifted under the duvet to lean against James’ chest, careful not to disturb Liho who lay sleeping at the foot of their bed. He lifted his arm to let her snuggle close. She rested her head against his shoulder, content and full, drawing lazy circles on his chest while he kept stuffing the black hole he had for a stomach.

Half a waffle remained when he finally had enough and moved the tray to the bedside table.

“Are you sure you’ve had enough? I don’t want you to starve,” said Natasha as he settled down on his side next to her in the bed.

He shrugged. “I can get seconds after.” Leaving little doubt as to what he intended to do in the meantime, he traced the lacey neckline of her nightie, dipping down between her breasts to her sternum before returning to the neckline.

She made a noncommittal sound and carded her fingers through his hair.

“Don’t tell me you have other plans for today?” James dipped his head down, nuzzled the crook of her neck with his nose before dusting the skin with kisses. The stubble on his chin brushed her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine.

“I still don’t know what your plans are.” She hooked her leg over his, wriggling closer, needing to feel as much of him as she could.

“More fun this way.” His finger reached the end of the neckline and traveled down her side, following the curve of her breast, his touch feather-light.

“It’s just…” she trailed off when he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her nipple. Arching her back to get more than the achingly light touch.

He looked up, his hand stilling. “Just what, Natalia?” The beginning of a frown marred his brow.

Natasha did her best not to smile. She hadn’t meant to trail off like that, but her silence seemed to work just as well as her teasing him. “You know how you got to set the pace after your birthday party because it was your birthday?” She pressed a hand against his chest until he obliged her and rolled onto his back, and she sat up to straddle his lap, his thighs firm and warm underneath her.

James looked up at her, his eyes blue in the early morning light and so very attentive. “Yeah?” His hands crept up her thighs under her nightie to curl around her hips, the calluses on his right thumb rough on her skin when he rubbed it over her hipbone.

She rolled her hips. His half-hard cock twitched against her thigh. “My birthday, my rules.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Alright, what are your rules?”

“First off, I need you to tell me what your plans are.”

He had the decency not to smirk. “It’s more of a two-step operation.” He raised a hand and curled it into a fist before he extended the index finger. “Breakfast in bed.” The middle finger joined his index finger. “Make you come as many times as possible.”

She had to bite her lip not to laugh. “Well, I can hardly argue with that, but I would like to add to it.”

“Yeah?”

“Just a few minor adjustments to an otherwise sound plan.” Natasha leaned forward, her hand resting on his chest, and captured his lips in a kiss, drawing it out. His body was firm under her, hard muscles and long limbs. Yet all it took to keep him where she wanted him was a light touch, a word, or a glance. It used to scare her the way he offered himself to her without questions or hesitation. These days it was a gift and one she would do anything to protect.

“And secondly?” James asked between kisses.

It took her a moment to remember what they had been talking about, then she said, “No playing favorites. We both know that the serum didn’t just make you a better soldier.” She plucked at his tee. “Strip.”

He grinned, wide and vicious. Sitting up, he looped an arm around her, leaving her no choice but to hold on to him to keep steady as he got up to kneel on the bed. He only reluctantly let go of her when she unfurled her legs from around his waist and he dipped his head to kiss her before sliding off the bed. Reaching behind his head to grasp the collar of his tee, he pulled it over his head with a ripple of muscles that she would never grow tired of watching. The sweatpants went just as quickly and then he was standing before her naked like the day he was born. Well, with some minor modifications, but the arm only enhanced how incredibly gorgeous he was. And the look in his eyes…

He looked at her with such hunger it had her aching all over with need, but she could wait. Crooking a finger at him, she motioned him closer, then patted the bed. He got in, obedient as ever.

Liho was less impressed, though. She flicked her tail and jumped off the bed.

Not that Natasha paid the cat much attention, at least not with James getting into bed, graceful and strong, and all hers. That last part would never cease to amaze her.

“How d’you want me?” His voice had the roughness that usually meant he’d smoked half a packet of cigarettes in one go. No cigarettes now, though, only hunger.

“On your back, дорогой, so I can blow you.”

His focused expression cracked as he began to snicker. “God, I love you. Have I told you that lately? ‘Cos, I do.”

“I know,” she said to make him smile and leaned forward to kiss the delicious curls of that smile. Deep and hungry, following James’ lead when he pulled her with him as he laid down. Breathless, she said, “I love you, too,” nudging his nose with hers as she went to kiss the line of his jaw.

His hands crept up her thighs under her nightie, but she caught them and guided his arms over his head to wrap his long fingers around the headboard bars instead. It was the only way she could have her way with him without interruptions.

Natasha worked her way down his body, kissing and caressing. Careful to only brush the overly sensitive skin where metal met flesh. It was an exploration of sorts. She knew his body like the back of her hand, in bed and out of it. Could find his every scar blind and bring him to orgasm in no time, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise.

James was such an unselfish lover. He would happily make her come as many times as she could stand before even considering his own pleasure. To have him splayed out like this, entirely at her mercy was… Well. Exciting wasn’t the word. It didn’t capture the full extent of it. Breathtaking, perhaps. To have the silence be broken only by his tiny huffs of breath and the sounds of skin against skin. To watch him twitch and grip the bars of the headboard with crushing strength.

It was everything to her.

His cock was fully hard when she reached it, twitching when she ran a finger along its entire length. And maybe he wasn’t the only unselfish lover in this relationship. She enjoyed giving him pleasure as much as receiving it. Her own pulse thudded relentlessly between her legs, matching the one she could feel under his skin beat by beat. Settling between his thighs, Natasha nudged his cock with her nose, grinning when it twitched. He smelled of unscented soap and skin, which meant he must have showered before making breakfast. Sneaky bastard. She pressed a kiss to the underside of the head and caught it with her mouth when it jerked in response, silky and hard and oh so eager.

He was breathing hard by the time she had built up a comfortable rhythm. She managed to glance up at him without breaking her beat, his eyes were squeezed closed and his bottom lip white where his teeth bit into it.

Squeezing her thighs together for the slight pressure it provided to still her ache, she kissed and licked and did her absolute best to reduce the love of her life to a restless, jittery mess. His breath had turned ragged by the time she noticed a metallic whine coming from the headboard. She paid it little heed. And maybe that was a mistake, but she had more important things to focus on. The words spilling over his lips. The restless jerks of his hips as he struggled not to thrust up and into her mouth.

It didn’t take him long after that. Words turned into moans, and he came, hips jerking and shaking. She eased him through it, swallowing him down until he slumped on the bed. There. She kissed the arch of his hipbone and looked up to find—

“Uh,” said James, awkwardly trying to fix the mangled metal pipe that had once been a headboard bar.

Natasha snickered. “It has been a while since we’ve had furniture destroying sex.”

“It has,” he repeated, apparently not yet able to speak in full sentences.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crawled up his body, snuggling up close as he gave up and put the bar on the nightstand.

“We’re not done yet,” he said, getting up on an elbow.

“Thought you might need a break, old man.”

“Old man,” he repeated. “I’m not the one who can’t keep track of her fake birthdays,” James said with such irreverence that she started laughing.

That was a mistake.

Rudely taking advantage of her distraction, he slid off the bed and knelt next to it, his hands wrapped around her ankles before he had settled, pulling her with him. He didn’t pull her off the bed, though. Easing her legs over his shoulders, he tugged her close, his breath warm on her skin. Natasha shivered. Anticipation coursed through her. Soft lips on the thin skin of her inner thighs, warm breath when he moved.

The adoration with which he treated her was breathtaking. It always had been, and it had only grown over time. She got up onto her elbows and watched him kiss a trail up one thigh, then torturously skipping to the other leg and lavishing it with as much attention as he had the first. She was wet already, and he was just plain cruel.

As if reading her mind, he looked up at her and licked his lips. Cruel, cruel man. He leaned forward and finally, finally set his mouth on her, nuzzling between slick folds. A moan tore itself free from her throat and Natasha dropped her head back onto the bed, relishing every lick, every kiss. He knew her body as intimately as she knew his, knew how to coax half-strangled sounds from her throat, how to plant his hand on her stomach to keep her from lifting off the bed when his lips closed around her clit.

At some point, James must have removed his right hand from her hip, but she didn’t register it till he slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, but what came out was his name. Her entire body tensed up and ready for release. He wriggled his fingers inside her; the stretch made her arch her back as she tried in vain to ground against his hand. The coil in her gut tightened slowly, pleasure building.

She found his hair blind and tangled her fingers in it. Not to guide him, to make sure he didn’t move away. She was so close. So damn close.

Her breath came in gasps. She trembled with pent-up desire, her skin tight. His clever tongue and fingers driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Just as it became nearly unbearable, she got her release. Undone and shaking, pleasure flooded her veins, and her vision went white.

It took Natasha a good minute or two to find her way back to herself and collapse onto the mattress. She lifted her head to look at him. He looked self-satisfied, and it was entirely well-earned. She grinned back at him and tried to pull him up by his unscared shoulder. She needed his weight on top of her, his mouth on hers. Please and thank you. James’ smile widened and he crawled up her body, his head dipping down to lick a nipple on his way. The nightie turned into an even more useless top when she slid back on the bed to allow room for his ridiculously long legs. It slipped off her shoulder, but not entirely off, pooling uselessly around her stomach. She’d deal with it later. Right now, all she wanted was to kiss her adoring and slightly sticky boyfriend silly. Priorities.

She wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. She could taste herself on him. Hell, she could smell herself on his skin. He’d wiped his mouth on the duvet cover, but it lingered. As if she’d scent marked him. The thought made her snicker, and he pulled back to look down at her questioningly.

With two fingers Natasha wiped his chin and then presented them to him. “I think this means I’ve marked you as mine.”

He licked his lips. “Yeah,” said James. “Yeah, that seems about right.”

Heart aching, she slipped an arm between him and palmed his cock. It was hard again already, leaking at the tip. He let out a breath when she touched it and she couldn’t _not_ squeeze it. It just wasn’t an option. She was a little breathless herself, it was only fair to return the favor by trapping him between her folds and her hand. Self-torture and teasing in one neat package.

He pressed into the touch, eyes half closing as he rocked his hips into her hand. Addictive, that was what this was. The way he gave himself freely to her, the way his breath caught in his throat.

Shifting her grip, Natasha angled him so that the next time he rocked his hips he pushed inside her, thick and heavy and lovely. The stretch tore another moan from her. He stilled, eyes intent on her face.

“Don’t stop. I’m good, I’m good, just—” She let out a sigh of relief when he pushed all the way inside.

In fact, she was more than good. Goosebumps started somewhere around the base of her skull and flowed down her spine as James pulled out, watching her with wonderment all over his lovely features. It made her heart hammer in her chest, and she pulled at his shoulders until he dropped his weight onto his forearms, pushing her into the mattress. His body formed a cocoon around her, muscles and metal cradling her with equal tenderness. There was no place on earth she felt safer.

He leaned his forehead against her, their breath a warm blanket between them, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him as close while still allowing room to move. The friction when he did move was delicious and maddening at the same time. Nerve-endings still overly sensitive buzzing.

“Mine,” Natasha whispered.

“All yours,” he kissed the words into her skin along the line of her jaw, down the side of her neck. “Forever and ever.”

His even rhythm stuttered, then steadied at a faster pace. Bottomless hunger radiated from his features, and the echo of it reverberated within her. Needing him. Needing his touch. Every thrust pushed her into the mattress, pushed the air from her. His own breath was as unsteady as hers. Natasha knew how close he was, didn’t need to be told. She wasn’t far behind with his lovely drag and push inside her. Still, she snaked an arm between them, letting her fingertips brush against his cock as he pushed inside, then back to her clit.

Even the light touch was almost too much. Her breath caught. Above her, James groaned then kissed her, hungry and desperate. The building pleasure spiked. Warmth rushed through her, setting her nerves on fire. She shook as she rode the waves of her orgasm, trying and failing to match his rhythm. A whimper reached her ears. She couldn’t tell which of them it came from. James’ hips snapped into her; his pace desperate. His skin was slick with sweat under her hands, muscles tense. Then he was coming, too. He spilled himself into her, groaning and jittering.

For a few seconds, he rested on top of her, weight nearly crushing her, then he rolled off and pulled her with him to drape her on his chest. “Happy birthday, darlin’,” he murmured into her hair.

She wanted to laugh, but she barely had any air left in her lungs. “My love,” she said. “I don’t think I can move.”

His laugh was a rumble in his chest before his breath brushed over her hair, warm and easy.

Natasha’s sense of time got lost in the steady beat of his heart, but when she stretched, her foot hit something soft, that meowed before moving. She snickered.

“You’ve done it now,” James’ voice rumbled under her head. “Scared her off for good.”

She snorted. “For five minutes tops.” Folding her arms on his chest and laying her head on it to look at him comfortably, she said, “I think, maybe, you’ve convinced me about the whole birthday thing.”

“Yeah?” He propped his head up with an arm under it.

“Yeah.”

“You want more? There’s a three-month gap between April and August,” James said, then added. “No birthdays in March, either.”

“Your birthday is in March.”

“I don’t mind sharing with you.”

“I know you don’t.” Natasha stretched to kiss the tip of his nose. “But I have more than enough birthdays. When’s the next one?”

“September twenty-first.” The answer came promptly and with a hint of a smirk. He knew how terminally curious she was, and truth be told, she was dying to ask him about the other ones, but she could wait. Let him keep his secrets.

“Can’t wait to see what you come up with for it,” Natasha said instead of asking about the other ones.

The smirk softened. He ran his free hand up her back and down again, body-warm metal smooth and nearly frictionless against her skin. “Might take a few days off. Maybe visit Paris again. It’s off-season, fewer tourists.”

It was a lovely idea. Especially considering that the last time they’d been there, it had been on an assignment and they’d barely had any time for themselves. “I’d love to see you convince Fury to give us time off to celebrate a fake birthday.” She got up onto an elbow and nudged the tip of his nose with hers.

“Watch me,” James said and kissed her, soft and lingering. “I’ll tell him it’s for our anniversary.”

She could tell him that neither of them knew the exact date, but seeing that it hadn’t stopped him from celebrating her fake birthdays, there wasn’t any point. Besides, he was leaving a trail of kisses along the line of her neck and it would be rude to interrupt. What Natasha said instead was, “Can’t wait.”

Who cared about the actual, factual dates when she could have his lips on her skin and his warm body underneath her? This was better. This was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, here's every (fake) birthday: SHIELD’s database lists Nat’s birthday as **January 1** , 1984. When Lila asked, Nat said **February 29**. She told Steve **April 1** (but he realized that it was a joke when Bucky asked him about it). Wanda thinks it’s **August 13** , Darcy thinks it’s **September 21** , Nat tells Bucky **October 31** he asks her (for the third time, during sex), Sam thinks it’s **November 22** , and Banner think it’s **December 25**.


End file.
